The Bipolar's Diary

6

22nd January, 2002...

Dear diary, I'm really happy today. First reason; I got A+ on math test (well, honestly, not to brag, that's something ordinary to me). Second reason...

I finally found out the reasons of my drastic and sharp mood changing from day to day. It's upside down like some spikes on a line graphic.

Even though the answer isn't satisfying and I'm supposed to be really sad, it's kind of great because... I don't need to worry about myself anymore.

Yes, all my searches with all the keywords ended up hopelessly sentencing me as a bipolar. I have bipolar disorder.

That sounds really painful and crazy, but... I'm still happy. I don't know why, though. Guess that's one thing of being a bipolar.

I searched all the ways up and down, and I found that one of the sufferers of bipolar disorder says you sometimes feel incredibly lonely.

I was like: How can you read my mind? Have you stolen my diary? Ugh. I also found out that...

Alright; listen, you don't need to remind me or freak me out. I know, I know. I know it all matches perfectly with what I'm usually feeling suddenly.

I also see that I have a bipolar disorder, but not so severe. I mean... the ones with an advanced stage of bipolar disorder could totally be worse than my condition.

They can be crazy suddenly just like they had been possessed by a devil. I really hope that I won't be like them.

Because I am not telling this to my parents who can cry all night long just for me having bipolar disorder.

I also don't want to let anyone know on their own except the people that I feel like worthy to vent to, just like you, diary.

By the way, haven't I told you that I kind of like matching styles of fashion? Yeah! And now, I got to mix and match some clothes.

Tomorrow, I'm going to the hospital. Not because of my bipolar disorder, of course. I don't think the hospital is a really smart way to end my strange disease.

All they can give is, I bet - therapy, therapy, and therapy. I'll be spending my whole life inside a room with a therapist and myself!

That's boring. I can't even bring you, I guess. So what am I going to the hospital tomorrow for? Aha, here.

So lately, my father and mother was panicked for my old uncle suddenly had to be hospitalized for hypoglycemia.

You know my father and mother, don't you? They relate low blood glucose disease to diabetes. I can burst into laughter if they weren't my parents.

They think it's a genetic illness, so they want to check themselves and bring me to check up with them, too.

We just want to see if any of us inherits the freaking sickness hypoglycemia. Well, I'm not really sure if we can really inherit it.

But, after surfing through the web, I've got a little more convinced that there may be a little possibility of hypoglycemia inheritances.

So, I mixed and matched all the stocks that remained in my wardrobe, and I finally came up to this:

Is it cute? What shoes do you think I should wear, uh? Um... boots? High heels? High heels boots? Ooh, I know just the thing!

Don't you think it's to short? I think I should've bought one that covers up to my knee, though. But since for now, that's all I've got, so yeah...

I got to think what else to mix in my tomorrow's dress code, so... I think I'll see you tomorrow, diary. I know that today I'm accepting a bitter reality of mine...

But I'm still happy! So happy! So, don't ever worry about me, alright? I got to go, see you later as usual! Goodbye.